


Requium for Infinity

by Shmeowzow



Series: Good Boys/Bad Girls [5]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: F/F, F/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-11
Updated: 2018-08-31
Packaged: 2019-05-04 04:53:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,025
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14585385
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shmeowzow/pseuds/Shmeowzow
Summary: Patricia Chase receives a warning from an old friend that leads to a chain-reaction of events no one saw coming, all the while Chase still grapples with her complicated relationships to Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes, and the serum that saved her life.





	1. Prelude

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Although completely optional, I recommend reading the rest of the fics in this series before going into this chapter. Happy reading!

Chase tried hard not to scream as she felt the oncoming storm of an orgasm building inside of her, grabbing Steve's hand and biting down into the pale skin of it in an attempt to stifle her voice. Not that she needed to, even if there were anyone around to hear them, she wasnt entirely sure she cared anymore. 

She came just before Steve, who collapsed beside her in a heap, breathing heavily, both of their wheat blonde hair was stuck to their faces and bodies in odd places. Chase watched Steve's eyes, gazing into the absence of light in his blown pupils, and saw something there she recognized, and feared. His chest swelled and retracted with breath, full mouth twisting into a grimace, and before she could open her mouth, ask him not to say anything, Steve Rogers asked Patricia Chase to marry him. Her body and face froze, making Steve worry for a moment she'd stopped breathing. He was searching for an expression, or some body language he could read, but was getting nothing from her.

Chase was still breathing, if only barely. She couldn't decide what she was more afraid of, the question itself, or the fact that she couldn't come up with a reason to say no to him this time. Before she had any more time to mull it over, Steve took his chances and slipped a band of thinly woven gold with a diamond set in the center onto her left ring finger, and the question seemed answered for her. 

Later Chase lay awake, staring at the glitter of moonlight shimmering off of the precious metal on her finger, heart racing, unable to sleep, even with Steve's resting body lying peacefully with her. Just when the fears of her impending failure seemed to loom imminent, at the ready to strike, she heard her phone buzz to life on the bedstand next to her. It was a blocked number, and after staring at the brightly lit screen for a few moments, she set it back down on its face, intending to let the call go to voicemail. She had just settled back into her pillow when the thing spring to life again, and this time when she picked it up she was irritated, swiping to answer and slapping the thin device to her cheek, whispering a terse, "Who is this?"

_"It's me, Kid."_

Chase's chest tightened when she heard the deep thrum of Bucky's voice echoing through her phone, from where she knew what must have been across the world. She didn't know how it was possible, but for a brief moment, she allowed herself not to think about it. "Buck...?"

Chase looked back over her shoulder at Steve, still sleeping blissfully to her eyes, while she listened to James Barnes' brief message to her. The content of what he'd said motivated Chase to put herself on the first plane she could find that would get her all the way to Wakanda, despite Steve's sudden and recent proposal. Or maybe it had been in spite of it, she wasn't quite sure anymore.

She stared into the iridescent gem in the ring he'd given her, and pictured what that angelic visage often morphed into when Steve was hurting; imagining the pain he might feel when he realized she was gone. Chase wished she could have come up with a way to let him know that she'd be alright, without possibly putting all three if their lives in danger. She didn't know what was going to come of this trip, and she could not, under any circumstances, leave room for a chance that he might follow her.

When she finally arrived in Wakanda it was much as she remembered it; lush, green, and well populated. Chase had sent a brief message to T'Challa to keep him abreast of her presence in his country, hoping he'd appreciate the gesture and leave her to her business. Chase wasn't interested in ruffling any feathers, least of all ones belonging to those who had helped her. As far as Chase was concerned, she owed T'Challa a great debt for taking care of James in these troubling times. She had packed necessities and a few changes of clothes into a large backpack, and not much else save for some weapons. Chase had become quite proficient with her shiny, new vibranium asps in the time since Tony had so generously tried to blackmail her with them, and she always made it a personal rule to carry at least one gun at all times. As a result, she was happy when she was finally able to lay her heavy bag down on a small porch in the middle of Wakandan-nowhere, but that was about the only positive thing she felt right now. She was confused, scared, angry, and anxious, taking a deep breath and holding it as she prepared to knock on the door. Before she could complete the action, she was scared near out of her wits by a low voice uttering her name behind her, and she spun around, having drawn her gun. 

Chase found herself staring down the barrel at none other than James Barnes, one hand splayed out in front if him, her finger hovering dangerously close to the safety. Releasing the air from her lungs she lowered her weapon and looked him over as he lowered his arm. His dark hair had grown longer, and more shaggy since she'd seen him last. His beard was unkempt, and he wore only the most basic of clothing, including a sort of sling that wrapped around his body where his great, metal arm used to be, and before that, flesh and bone. Now there was only empty air. The wrinkles at the corners if his dark eyes scrunched together, and he almost smiled through the swell of emotion he felt when he saw Patricia Chase on his doorstep. "Expecting someone else?"

His voice was more low and coarse than it had seemed on the phone, but it was still the voice she remembered. Chase returned her pistol to its harness at her hip just under her jacket, voice barely a whisper, "I didn't know what to expect." 

He took a few steps forward, and she a few back, until Chase was pressed up against the wooden threshold of Bucky's new home. She looked down when her boot caught the corner of the bag she'd just set down, and when she glanced back, James was upon her, pressing his forehead into hers, right hand pressing her hip into the door. Chase's eyes fluttered shut, she was close enough to smell the sweat trickling down his thick neck as he held her there. "I didn't think you'd come," he admitted, after a time.

Chase looked up into his eyes, searching for answers, but she knew she would have to wait. "I had to know why you came back. Why you-" 

His lips fell onto hers, and she didn't even care that they were chapped and dry. Her hands tangled in his hair and held his face there, not letting him change his mind, not caring if she finished her thought. Chase missed his touch, missed his lips, missed  _all of him,_ even the parts that weren't there anymore. Carefully, without skipping a beat, he reached behind them and pushed the door open slowly, nudging Chase backward inside of his space. She barely had time to notice how much cooler it was before he'd pushed her bag inside with his leg, and broke away from her only to shut the door behind them. His house was dark and cozy, the only light was the little that shown through the thick, heavy, swollen curtains hanging in front of any windows. Chase immediately felt at home, comforted somehow, by the darkness.

Impulsively she lunged forward, throwing herself at him; he absorbed the weight of her body without struggle, propping her up under her round cheeks with his intact arm. She supported herself with her legs crossed at the base of his back, and arms wrapped around his neck. What little light there was reflected back at her from his eyes while she started at them, splaying her hands across his cheekbones, down his jaw and neck. A part of her still couldn't believe it was really him, separate itself from the memory of the resolve she saw in his face to go back to sleep, to leave her and Steve behind. His eyes never lied to her, though. They spoke of pain, guilt, and lonliness,  _so_ much lonliness. 

Pressing her lips softly against his, she arched her back, forcing friction between his hips and her groin, causing a garbled noise to escape Bucky's throat into Chase's open mouth. She absorbed the sweet sound into herself, and continued moving her body against him, leveraging herself against his hips and shoulders. Bucky took a few steps forward, setting Chase down on the back of a small sofa, freeing up his arm, and burying his digits in between her thighs. This time it was her turn to make noise. She curled her fingers in his hair, face growing warm, legs contracting to draw him closer to her. He continued kneading away, and she could feel a small fire building inside of her, making her more and more wet. 

While Bucky was still preoccupied, Chase freed her own hands and busied them with the hemline and buckles of his trousers. He made small noises every time a hand brushed up against his manhood, growing thicker with every moment. The noises grew louder and more frequent once she had him in her hands, leaving his pants pooled around his hips as she stroked more life into him. Following her lead, Bucky paused his work for a moment, turning his fingers to Chase's own bottoms and pulling them lose. Chase lent one hand to help with the other side, and together they pushed them down past her knees.

Once all physical barriers had been done away with, James wasted no more time, and Chase braced herself against the couch as he buried his thickness within her, the tight and intense pressure giving them both a moment of pause. When Bucky finally started moving again Chase began mewing softly, falling forward and burying her face in the crook of his neck. She had gone far too long without the feeling of him inside of her. A few more moments passed and Bucky began breathing again, almost violently; his breath escaped him in a powerful moan that tapered off into a growl as his pace increased. He couldn't believe how amazing she felt, that her body was still just as soft and welcoming as it had always been. God, how he'd missed her body.

Chase was lost in his control of her nerve endings, coupled with the never-ending stream of sensuous noise that came from him for her benefit; matched only by the soft thrums and desperate cries he elicited out of her. She was starting to feel the pressure in her body form a pattern, that pattern quickly building on itself and gaining intensity as Bucky's thrusts grew quicker, more violent. Wrapping her legs as tightly around his hips as she could, she leaned back and pressed her hips upward, forcing his abdomen against her clitoris, knowing the extra friction would be her undoing.

Bucky's hand was grasping her ass cheeks with bruising force, and she would have been more surprised when he lifted her up from the edge of the couch and continued pounding upward, if the sudden change in pressure and additional force hadn't sent her orgasm crashing through all of her limbs and senses. She screamed expletives and collapsed into Bucky's shoulder again, biting down on the skin she found there. After a few more strokes she heard him curse softly, his pace increasing in depth, but decreasing in speed. He half-set, half-dropped Chase back onto the edge of the couch as they both caught their breath and wits. Chase's arms hung loosely around Bucky's neck as she panted, his fingers were still bunched up in the meat of her left hip. Pecking him on the lips, Chase asked Bucky if he wouldn't mind showing her to where she could get cleaned up, and maybe a little more comfortable.

He puttered around while she showered, cleaning up here and there, making them some hot tea and setting out snacks. Mostly he was trying to keep himself busy; he knew seeing Chase again wasn't going to be easy, had known it when he called her, but even anticipating the anxiety didn't better prepare him to deal with it. It never did. He couldn't tell if his heart sank or skipped when he heard the door to the bathroom open, light flooding the hallway as footsteps plodded audibly toward him. Chase almost walked right past the kitchen but just happened to catch a glimpse of Bucky out of the corner of her eye, stopping surprised. He smiled weakly at her, or rather grimaced, gesturing to a  small table and two chairs snuggled in the breakfast nook. She tucked her still-damp hair behind her ears and crossed the room, pulling James into her arms once more, hugging him tight. "I missed you, dick head."

He chuckled softly, wrapping his one arm as far around her as he could, and buried his face into her hair; he enjoyed the scent of his soap on her, consuming her. "I know, I know. I've got a lot of "s'plaining" to do."

Chase sat down across from Bucky, taking her tea and glancing around the kitchen, from floor-tile to ceiling. From what she's seen of the small abode, it was small and run-down, but homey. It suited James just fine. She didn't exactly know how to lead this conversation; wasn't even sure it was her place to do so, so she just waited, wrapping her teabags around the little spoon James had set out with their strings, trying not to let her anxiety get the best of her as she watched the dark liquid strain from the thin, cloth membranes and into the cup of liquid before her. Luckily, she didnt have much waiting to do. Bucky had been worrying at the scruffiness of his beard with his fingers, completely ignoring his tea up to this point. When his digits stopped moving and dropped to the table, Bucky looked at Chase, attempting to make eye contact as he said, "I'm sorry."

She let out a hiss of breath she hadn't even known she'd been holding; she didn't know what she'd been expecting him to say, but it certainly wasn't that. Disarming though his apology was, she still had a lot of questions. Taking a sip of her tea, she asked him if he minded her smoking inside. When he told her he didn't give a flying fig, she briefly excused herself to dig a pack of cigarettes and lighter out of her backpack, before returning and lighting up. She was surprised once more when he accepted her offer of a second lit cigarette to him, even if it wasn't entirely out of character. Bucky used to smoke with her all the time. After she'd taken another small sip of her tea and exhaled a thick cloud of blue-gray smoke into the room in front of them, she asked her most pressing question, "Why didn't you tell me you'd come back?"

He took a drag of his own cigarette, and she could tell by the shifting expressions on his face that he was having a hard time coming up with an answer. She misenterpereted him however; he knew exactly the answer, just not quite how to convey that to her properly. Chase begged for the truth with her eyes, and he gave it to her. "When I went under, I thought it was because I didn't want to be used as a tool any more. I was tired of living in fear that I would hurt someone again...that I would hurt  _you_ again."

Chase rubbed her eyes furiously, as she often did when stressed. He continued, not giving her time to interject. "When T'Challa woke me up and told me they could fix me, if that's what I wanted...that was the day I realized being brainwashed wasn't the only thing making me miserable."

He heaved a deep sigh, resting his chin on top of a balled fist, propped up on the table by his elbow before continuing, "And that hurting people doesn't always include murder."

Chase briefly remembered herself begging Bucky not to leave them, that she needed him, that _Steve_ needed him, when he told her he couldn't do this "thing" with the two of them anymore. She watched him glance at the ring on her left hand, and back into her eyes, expression never changing. She felt as if she were the one that needed to apologize now; she knew her selfishness and fear of commitment was a detriment to others, that it hurt them, and she had her whole life. It was only in the last decade, as she settled down in a reality populated by people she at least mostly cared about, that she was starting to see the ripple effects of her own behavior as something that needed to be changed. 

* * *

 

" _I won't let you. You can get better, I can help you get better. Steve can help you get better. You're not alone anymore, you have a support system; a group of people who would do anything for you, who know your damage, and are better equipped to help you manage it than anyone else alive."_

_His hair hung in his eyes, and he still wouldn't look at her. Chase's own bangs had grown choppy and tickled at her eyelashes. Her hand moved downward, over his shoulder, down across his back, tracing his tense muscles through the thin cotton of his white ribbed tank top. "I got a few good licks in."_

_Bucky shivered, but it was only for a moment. "It's not just that. I can't do this with you anymore, Chase."_

_Chase's hand fell into the empty air, and before she could ask him what he meant he continued quietly, "This weird fucking dance with you and Steve."_

* * *

 

She could feel tears welling in her eyes, and didn't know what to say. She didn't know how to explain her feelings for the both of them, or her feelings at all, but she could sense with infinite clarity that her time running away from it all was burning out. Snubbing her cigarette and exhaling another cloud of smoke, she couldn't meet his eyes when she said, "I'm sorry, Bucky."

He nodded, staring down at the hand he'd dropped into his lap, before looking up into her eyes again, and this time his were glistening; or maybe Chase was imagining things. "I want you to marry Steve, Pats."

Chase wasn't sure she'd heard his last words right, or if she did, they hadn't made sense. It's not that the things he was saying didn't make actual sense, Chase just didn't know how to put it all together in an understandable way. "Wait, what?"

Bucky almost chuckled, though he had been expecting at least a modicum of incredulity from her. His eyes were bright when he asked, "D'you wanna know what Steve wanted to talk to me about that day, Chaser? What he told me, after he asked you to leave the room?"

Chase inhaled sharply, panicked by almost having forgotten the memory of Steve telling her he'd wanted to speak to James in private after they had first brought him to Wakanda. "Yes," she breathed, air leaving her lungs in a shallow hiss. Bucky smiled, though it wasn't exactly one that invoked thoughts of happiness. "Steve told me he knew about everything about me and you."

Tears erupted over the lids of Chase's eyes and spilled down her cheeks. How could Steve have known, how could he have known  _everything?_ And if he had known everything, as Bucky said, how could he have still loved her, still  _proposed_ to her? Chase didn't bother asking any more questions, it was becoming more and more clear to her that Bucky held all of the cards in this conversation. He knew things she didn't know, and he'd called her here for a reason. "After you left, he told me he knew everything, but he wasn't angry," Bucky took a deep breath before letting it out all at once, "He told me he wanted you to be able to choose without guilt. That he loved you more than anyone he'd ever loved, but he couldn't bear the thought of you only choosing him because he gave you no other choice."

Bucky continued on, telling Chase that Steve had sensed it from day one, but that he knew Chase well enough to know better than to ask her for an ultimatum. He really had wanted her to choose between himself and Bucky, though he loved her so much, though he knew that there was a chance she might not choose him. Steve Rogers really was  _that much_ the "good guy" in this situation, in every situation. James could never dream of being as selfless or intrinsically benign as Steve. If given the chance, he would have scooped Chase up, and taken her away all for himself. Steve though? No. Steve just wanted to make sure everything was _fair..._ and it was for that reason that Bucky had decided he could never truly let himself have her.

Chase hazarded a glimpse at her ring, now feeling the true weight of it on her hand. So Steve hadn't made his decision blindly; Chase had never felt more guilty, more in the wrong. She felt almost as if she should give the ring back, but Bucky continued, "I want you to marry him, Pats, because I know you love him."

Tears kept spilling down Chase's face, because necessary though it was, she was neither prepared nor ready to have this conversation. Bucky's eerily placed, almost immediate phone call had been just the devil's advocate she needed to enable her to put off truly digesting Steve's proposal, but it seemed her luck evading her feelings, among other things, had finally run out. She was going to have to face them head on, whether she wanted to or not, and said the only thing she could think to say, the only thing she knew for certain was true. "I love both of you."

Shaking his head, Bucky rose from his chair and came to kneel in front of Chase, taking her hand in his and staring up at her with earnest eyes. "That's not how this works, Kid."

Chase wanted to sob, but just as she knew James was right, she knew it wasn't worth it, and as against her former nature as the thought was, there was a part of Chase that  _did want to marry Steve._  Maybe one day they would even be able to rest together, to stop fighting and running all the time. A decade ago she would have laughed at the thought of anyone trying to tie her down, let alone the idea that maybe she herself would ever be anything but adverse to the concept, but her life had changed drastically when S.H.I.E.L.D. and Steve Rogers sprang into it, and had turned into something quite different than she originally imagined for herself; though she wouldn't have done anything differently. She also realized that though Buck was right, that didn't make her wrong. Chase truly did love them both, however, love was rarely an event in which one wad allowed to have their cake and eat it too. She let out a wavering sigh, wiping her face dry, and nodded. 

While the sun sank lower and lower in the sky, James fixed them both something for supper, and at Chase's request they dined outside together, watching the sunset during what was a surprisingly light and comfortable silence for how much the both of them had on their minds. When their plates were clean and Chase was contentedly chain-smoking, she heard Bucky clear his throat and turned toward him. He was lounging back in his chair with his hand behind his head, but had a troubled expression on his face as he stared out into the distance. "Steve wasn't the only reason I asked you to come."

This surprised Chase, but she said nothing while she waited for him to continue. "T'Challa doesn't think we have anything to worry about yet, but we've been picking up some pretty interesting radio signals and distress calls lately."

Chase nodded, digesting the information, wondering just what kind of distress calls they'd been getting. Signals like those weren't at all uncommon, and didn't usually end up resulting in much; but if they had been receiving a high volume of signals from areas of the galaxy they didn't normally come from, it could definitely be cause for alarm. Bucky stretched his arm out, which had been getting stiff under his weight, and leaned forward, continuing, "It may be nothing, but I don't feel good about it. Nobody wants to raise unnecessary alarm, but I wanted you to be prepared. Knowing and not telling someone back home didn't feel right."

Chase smiled and thanked Bucky for doing the right thing, but she sensed that wasn't all he had to say, and she was right. "I know it's not fair, but I need you to keep everyone on their toes without letting anyone know I'm not asleep anymore."

For the first time since he'd started speaking, Bucky glanced away from the empty outdoors to met Chase's eyes, and she could see in them that he was sorry. Though she had never really allowed herself to entertain the thought that he might come back with her, that they could all be a family again somehow, it still made her heart break. She promised herself not to make his decision any harder for him than it already was by asking, and she wasn't even sure him returning was the right move right now in any case. He misread the time it was taking her to reply as upset, and tried to explain himself a little better. "I'm just not ready to come back, Chase. Everything that's happened...," he let out a sigh of emotional exhaustion before going on, "it's all heavy, and complicated, and...I just need some time. I'm sorry."

He went on to say he wasn't even entirely sure the "cure" to his brainwashing was complete, let alone permanent, and he didn't want to hazard a risk at his loved ones' lives. Chase rose from her chair, last cigarette long-finished, and took either side of Bucky's face in her hands. "I understand. You don't have to be sorry."

Bucky had never longed for his other arm back more than he had at that moment, wishing he didn't have to settle on drawing Chase into him with the one, but it felt better than not being able to hold her at all, which he'd grown unfortunately accustomed to. A part of him didn't want to go back because, though Steve had absolved him of his sins concerning Chase, he still wasn't sure if he could face him right now, after everything he'd selfishly done.

After having stayed up most of the night enjoying what little of each other's company they dared to gamble with, Chase was collecting her things, and getting ready to go back home to Steve. She wasn't sure what she was going to tell him about her sudden and unexplained absence, but she figured she'd have plenty of uninterrupted time on the flight to think about it, if she didn't end up passing out first. As she and Bucky stood on his porch, silently staring at each other, Chase couldn't help but remember how horrible she was with goodbyes. No matter how hard she tried, she never felt like she'd ever gotten one right. Luckily Bucky suffered from the same unspoken syndrome, and seemed to sense as much from her. Folding her body against his, he pressed his mouth against the hair hanging in front of her ear and whispered, "I love you, Pats. Be careful." 

Instead of answering him, Chase pulled away and looked up into his soft, dark eyes that were pregnant with sorrow. "You're every bit as good as he is on the inside, Buck."

James smiled sadly, but it was still a smile, even if his heart wasn't in it. "We both know that's not true."

Before she could cry again, Chase had to force herself to walk away from Bucky without looking back, because she knew if she did, she might change her mind, and she was  _so fucking tired_ of being her own worst enemy; she wanted to be able to say she'd made the right decision, if only for once.


	2. Chapter 2

Chase was breathing heavily. She could feel her pale, blonde hair hanging on to her face with sweat, dirt, and sticky blood. She was in her vibranium gear, asps in hand, with heavy woods entombing everything in her immediate area. Looking around, she saw Steve in front of her, calling out to Thor, who was in the near distance, looking confused and distraught. She wasn't listening to them though; her attention turned to her left, where she saw James Barnes emerging from the foliage, looking mostly unscathed. Without thinking, Chase ran to him, glad it wasn't another threat, and overcome with emotion. He dropped his gun as she near fell into his arms, holding him so tightly it made her own ache. She was afraid she'd never see him again. Bucky held her fast, cradling her head to his chest with his great, metal arm, returning the sentiment. He turned to Steve and Thor, after what seemed like minutes, but was no more than mere moments, and then he started to feel... _strange,_ in her arms. Chase opened her eyes when she heard Bucky whisper, "Pats..."

He was falling then, and she couldn't figure out what was going on, what was all over her hands.  _What was all over her fucking hands?_  Then Chase heard screaming. Loud screaming, all kinds of screaming,  _so many different voices were screaming_. It sounded like some of them were forming words, but most of the voices were just, _howling._ She blinked hard, looked down at her hands, down at the ground, where Bucky should have fallen, but there was nothing there anymore. It was only after she realized she was one of the ones screaming, that she fell to her knees, and finally woke up.

* * *

 

It didn't take Chase very long to realize she was in fact, physically screaming. When she figured out she was awake she finally stopped, breathing in an out as fast as a high school track star when Steve's body started stirring next to her. He looked stunned, blinking frequently, rubbing his face; he still hadn't quite figured out what had woken him up, or if he was even really awake. When his vision cleared his heart skipped a beat, putting the puzzle pieces together. Sitting up, he drew Chase to his chest, the clammy skin of her forehead dampening his bare collarbone as she curled into him, trying to control her breathing, trying to deal with the flashing colors and images that were the fleeting remnants of her dream, trying not to whimper. Kissing her on the forehead, she felt Steve's chest rumble as he spoke quietly, "Nightmares again?"

She nodded quietly and breathed out for a long time, holding fast to her lover. She knew the headache would come soon. Ever since she had been essentially "resurrected," by a variant of the serum developed by the Stark family, she'd started to have incredibly vivid dreams that were accompanied by debilitating migranes; worse than the ones the plate in her head gave her, among other things. "Bucky," she whispered, trailing off.

He'd been in her dream, she was sure of it. Trying to recall the context of his involvement, she felt her pulse quickening again. Why did she feel so... _anxious?_ Steve seemed to sense this and, squeezing her hand in his, he murmured to her that everything was fine; James was okay, he had to be. "T'Challa would be up our asses if anything went wrong with Buck, and you know it."

Chase knew he didn't mean for it to sound the way it came out; all he'd really meant was that T'Challa was capable and astute, and that he would notify them the instant anything negative happened involving their dear friend, in any such event, however unlikely. After all, Buck's recorovery had been going so well. Chase knew somehow James was safe, but she couldn't shake the feeling that there was something authentic and tangible about the emotions she had been experiencing in her dream. It was definitely concerning. She tried to conjure an image of James safe in his bed, asleep, just as she wished to be, and in her head it seemed so real that it had a calming effect. She could see his chest rising and falling with life, however stilled. Chase felt herself smiling sweetly, and sadly; she hadn't seen James since the day of her wedding. 

Chase invited him; she'd wanted him to be there so badly, for the most important day of hers, and Steve's lives. Even if it meant Steve not knowing he was there. Bucky hadn't been ready to "come out" just yet, had not been ready for Steve to inevitably ask him to be his Best Man. Chase sadly understood why he wouldn't want to be so involved, and in fact just knowing he'd been there watching was enough, catching sight of him only a few times as he wandered in and out of the scenery. She only wished she could have shared it with Steve. He would never bother anyone by saying so, but she knew it hurt him not to have James "there."

It had been a small, but elegant little party, attended by what little family they were lucky enough to have at arm's length. Natasha agreed to be Chase's Maid of Honor, and Sam obviously stepped into what would have been Bucky's place for Steve. She'd never been happier in her life than on that day, and in the days since she'd stood in front of Steve Rogers, while his beautiful eyes set in that angelic face just,  _beamed_ down at her. She wasn't sure she'd ever seen him so full of joy, life. Chase had vowed to love him until the day she died, wrapped her arms around his neck, and kissed him; embarassed when she realized tears were streaming down her face, but when she had opened her eyes and pulled away, she saw Steve had been crying too. 

James contacted Steve after a short time, and Steve even went to Wakanda to visit him for a little while. Chase didn't mind, in fact she enjoyed the girl-time with Natty. They'd go for walks, or just lounge around whatever hotel, hostel, or B&B they were currently dodging the world in. They talked about Bucky, and they talked about Steve, and Chase felt accomplished that she'd finally gotten Natasha to open up about her possible feelings for Dr. Banner, and how worried she hadn't been showing she was for him. Some people thought Natasha had no feelings, but in reality she felt very deeply; it was just all compartmentalized very neatly.

It was during this more calm period of their lives that Chase started to notice some... _alarming,_ but not entirely unexpected, changes about her body. She'd told Steve, and even Natasha about some of them. For instance, when she was upset, her hands would tingle to the point it felt like they were downright vibrating sometimes. One time she'd think it coincided with a picture falling to the ground, or a piece of furniture shifting; but every time she tried to test this theory, tried to focus her energy, concentrate on moving something, it would never work, so she eventually gave up. Steve was the one that noticed a distinct increase in her stamina when he stopped her near the end of one of their daily jogs, breathless. Chase looked up at him confused, pulling her earbuds out, panting. Steve put his hands on her shoulders and looked her in the eye, brows furrowed in concern, not seeming to mind the beads of sweat rolling down the bridge of his nose between them.

"Babe, I don't want to freak you out, but this is the third day in a row I haven't lapped you  _once."_

Chase didn't say anything, just tried to think back, and when she did, she realized he was right. She'd been keeping pace with him stride-for-stride for miles now and hadn't even fucking noticed.

They weren't exactly in a position to consult with any of the usual suspects for help, but after a video rendezvous with Nick Fury, some of their suspicions were confirmed, and some of their worries were put to rest. Their old friend reassured them that these phenomena were likely being caused by the serum used to resurrect her when Bucky had taken her life before regaining his memory finally manifesting themselves. Fury himself had been the one who suggested it, and Chase had never forgotten the looming concept that Steve making the choice to use the serum and save her life would eventually leave her forever changed in some ways. Nick told her there was no pretty way to put it, but she was essentially a wacked-out mutant, from now on. Before the fluctuations of normalcy began, Chase had started to hope maybe there wouldn't be any; that maybe she'd been a lucky exception. Now that she knew she was wrong, she was conflicted, unsure of how to feel. She had a inkling that Steve had been daring to dream similarly, which solidified into fact as she watched him watch Fury verify what was happening; the pain in his eyes spoke of guilt, and just a whisper of remorse. Steve smiled when Chase squeezed his hand, but it stopped at the worry-lines in the corners of his pale eyes.

Chase's dreams started shortly after the physical changes, small and non-noteworthy at first, but they, and the headaches that followed, were slowly intensifying. She just wished she knew what it all meant. She couldn't say it "bothered" her that she wasn't exactly human anymore, especially since most of the effects of said condition seemed to benefit her this far, in plenty of ways. Being able to physically run pace with super-soldiers wasn't exactly something she felt comfortable complaining about. The tingling was weird, and she still wasn't exactly sure what it was even going to amount to, but she made a point to stop worrying about it, and she was also still on the fence about the dreams; she questioned their usefulness and resented the pain that followed. Chase was a superstitious gal, as most criminals were, but she'd never been given a reason to think that her dreams meant anything.

Then Steve and Natasha went away for a while to gather basic intel, and Chase felt the need to sit out. She'd been feeling out of sorts lately, and oddly fatigued. After they'd been gone a week, Chase called Bucky in hysterics when she realized  _she couldn't remember the last time she'd eaten_. Was it when Steve and Nat left, before, after? She had no fucking clue. The part that alarmed her the most, sparked an urge to finally reach out to someone,  _to tell someone_ , was when she discovered she didn't feel anything. She wasn't hungry, she had no urge to eat, she couldn't even tell if she'd lost weight. Chase felt like she was losing her mind for the first time in a long time. She felt isolated, she was  _changing,_  her body was changing without her permission; she had been dealing with it just fine up until that moment, and in that moment the weight of it that she hadn't been fully confronting before slammed into her all at once. The only thing she could think to do was dial her friend, hope he'd answer.

When he did, she sobbed her story out to him, her garbled words pouring into the reciever as if out of a blender. Even after he'd managed to talk her down, her behavior still had Bucky alarmed. In his mind, Chase seemed unshakeable; he'd never heard her like this before, and it worried him. He began to think maybe the strain of the serum they'd given her was changing more than just her body. He wished he could hug her, tell her everything would be all right to her face, but she was too far away for him to hold then, even as a friend. He made her promise him she'd eat something, even if she didn't want to. He even managed to draw a feeble laugh out of her. It purred over the line and made them both a little sad.

Steve and Natasha returned the next day, and Chase decided not to tell them what happened. Everything Bucky had told her had made her feel better, and she'd slowly started teaching herself to eat normally again. Sometimes Steve would notice her forgetting about her food, but it never worried him enough to mention it. Natasha, as always, saw through everything but remained silent unless she thought her voice was necessary. She respected Chase enough to not bother her with worry unless the other female explicitly asked her to. Chase started learning to enjoy the new boost in her physicality. She started working out with Steve almost twice as often, and made a point to consume and stay hydrated enough to fuel her evolving body.  

Chase was jogging alone close to sunset one evening when the odd feeling she'd been having all day; a feeling that something important somewhere was  _off,_ started intensifying to the point that it almost felt like a ringing in her ear. As she started slowing to a stop, her arms and legs developed goosebumps. All of this was preceded by her music pausing to to inform her she'd received a text message. Chase's heartbeat switched from resting cardio to anxiety-mode as she fumbled with her armband for her phone. The text was from Bucky. All it said was, "Can't talk now. Tell Steve something is happening."

Chase could tell from the newfound gaping pit in her gut, and her gooseflesh's resistance to calm itself, that "something" was going to be really bad. She tried not to think about it as she practically flew on her toes back from the direction she'd come.

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this is short, but I wanted everyone to be aware I'm currently and actively working on this fic in anticipation of Endgame!

Chase ran and ran, as fast as she could, but she still felt like she wasn't making enough progress, despite her newly aqcuired super-speed. _How far had she gone?_ Bucky's words had jilted her, lit a proverbial fire under her ass to get back to base and warn her friends. She didn't know what was happening, but she pondered the possibilities all the way back to the safe-house, and whether they had anything to do with the "distress signals" James had warned her about during her brief visit to Wakanda.

After gliding up several flights of stairs, Chase slid her keys into the door and swung it open, the air leaving her lungs in brusque gasps. Natasha and Sam looked alarmed but remained seated at the kitchenette table; they'd been playing cards while she was gone. Steve was already up and across the room, grabbing Chase by the arms and steadying her. He studied her as she ripped her earbuds out, sweat pouring down her face. "You okay, babe?"

She nodded quickly, but pulled up the text message from Bucky and handed her device to Steve. He looked down as she mimicked what the message had said aloud for everyone else. "Bucky says something is happening."

Natasha lay her cards down flat and rose from the table without a word, heading to her room where Chase assumed she was going to gather her things. Steve handed Chase's phone back to her, brow furrowed with anxiety, as Sam made his way toward them, crossing his arms. "So what's up? What do we do?"

Chase looked at both of them, feeling her emergency mode switching into high gear. "We don't have any details. But we need to find Wanda and Vision, fast. We can't be apart right now."

Steve's eyes cut down to Chase's, confusion and concern showing openly. "We spent weeks trying to track them down after they disappeared the last time, babe. How are we supposed to do that?"

Chase wouldn't meet his eyes. She sighed, a heavy, anxiety-filled thing, and headed toward the kitchen to start packing necessities before working on getting her own things together. "Just start packing your shit, honey. I know how to find them."

The four of them sat in silence on the jet to Edinburgh. Only Sam admitted he was a little irritated with Chase for withholding the fact that she'd been tracking Wanda and Vision since they went on their little "lover's vacay," as he was calling it, but Chase could not care any less. Nat and Steve had remained silent on the subject so far, but she couldn't say for sure if she would have been moved by their anger, either. 

Wanda had come to her and said she and Vision needed some space to be alone, to figure out who they were, who they weren't, and what they might be able to build together. Chase couldn't say she blamed either of them. More than that, she knew if she didn't let them, they'd either find a way, or break apart, and she didn't want either of those situations on her conscience. Chase promised not to reveal their location as long as she had a way to find them in an emergency, and suggested she at least tell Nat she was going as well. "Just...convince her that you need a few weeks. Don't worry about the boys, and I'll take care of the rest."

Wanda told her she'd never be able to repay Chase the kindness, but she didn't believe in that shit. She cared about the kid, and Vision. She just wanted them to be happy. So here they were, uncomfortably comfortable, all of them imagining their own worst-case scenarios in their heads about what could possibly be coming, what Buck had been warning them about. It had been all radio-silence since his initial alarm, but Chase had expected nothing less. He was preparing himself, getting his ducks in a row, just like they were.

Chase stretched when they landed in Edinburgh, still getting used to wearing her suit after such a long time. Steve nodded at her, tightening his gloves around his knuckles. "You look beautiful."

Chase was a little surprised by that; it was the first time he'd spoken directly to her since they had  left the safe-house, and she hadn't been able to get a good read on him in a while. She playfully rolled her eyes at him in response, double checking that all of her weapons were in place and easily accessible. "Yeah, well. Beautiful isn't going to stop whatever is coming."

Perfectly timed, almost punctuating her, there was audible evidence of a scuffle not a half mile away. _Shit._  They had been prepared for trouble, but Chase had still hoped against her better judgement that they would be lucky enough to extract their friends without having to fight their way out of it. Silly her. "Looks like you may have a point."

Steve said, smile fading into a more serious expression before he turned, nodding to Sam and Natasha that it was time to move out.


End file.
